My Beautiful Release
by Ms.Huxley
Summary: A story previously written on my old FanFiction account, Rosemarie Alanna Ann Belikov. After deciding to come back to the website, under the name Ms. Huxley, I thought that I would improve the story.
1. Chapter 1

**This story was originally put under my old FanFiction name, Rosemarie Alanna Ann Belikov. After deciding to came back under this current username, , I thought I would write this story once again, and improve it, seeing as that it was once quite popular.**

* * *

 ** _The United States of America, 1905_**

The gun is cold. Even though I'm wearing thick fabric, I can feel it against my skin, feel how cold it is. When I drown down the liquid in my crystal glass, the cold feeling vanishes for a fraction of a second as warmth and numbness takes over. I wish it was stronger, the warmth. Sadly, no matter how much I drink, I can't become drunk, not even a fraction, just lightly buzzed. My body tingles, but the thoughts I wish to smother don't stop, the thoughts of using the gun. Using it won't stop the thoughts for long; it won't keep me incapacitated for long. Going through another bottle of dark liquid, I decide to leave the dark and sparely filled bar. Even though I don't need it, I pull my coat up over my shoulders and begin to walk towards my home. I don't get more than ten feet before I hear it, before I hear the soft cry, the gentle sniffle.

For a fraction of a moment, I consider not investigating; I consider just going home and getting the evening over with. Attempting to block out the sounds, I begin my walk once again, but, cannot continue going when the cry becomes a sobbing. "Damn it," I whisper to myself, making my way towards the sound. "My fucking conscious always has to step in and—"My voice cuts off as I see what's before me.

A girl, no older than fifteen years old, dressed in a ratty and darkened dress, sits in a alley corner, directly next to the bar. Walking towards her slowly, attempting to get a better look at her, I step upon a twig and I instantly curse myself for not having been more careful. The girls head snaps up, and she begins to shake, sobs becoming even worse.

"What's your name?" Kneeling down, keeping my voice soft and quiet in order to not frighten her further. When I take a closer look at her features, I notice that her lip is cut open, black surrounding her eye that slowly swells.

She hesitates, eyes staring up at me with tears spilling from them. "Ro-Rosemarie."

"My name's Dimitri. Why are you doing here, Rosemarie?"

"I don' know. He… he just left me here." A twinge of anger runs through my stomach as I think about the terrible world we live in, think about all of the terrible things I've seen. "He just left me here, saying he was sor—"A near violent cough cuts off her words, causing her body to shake. It's then that I notice how cold she is, flesh goosebumped and pale. She can't stay out here much longer; she's already at risk to become sick, I can't let it get any worse.

"Rosemarie, I know that you don't know me, and I know that can be very scary, but, I promise to you that I will _never_ harm you nor will I _ever_ let someone else bring you harm. As long as you are under my care, you will be safe and cared for."

Her tears subside a tad, but fear still rests in her eyes. "O-okay."

"Okay. Now, Rosemarie, I'm going to take you to my home. You can't stay out here much longer, or you'll get sick. We can't let that happen." She nods, taking my hands as I help her up off the ground. A hiss of pain leaves her, her ankle giving out from under her. With impeccable speed, I scoop her into my arms, pressing her close to my chest. "Is this okay?" She nods again, and we make our way to my home.

When we arrive, no longer than ten minutes later, I am instantly greeted by my maid, Amie. Amie is a woman of fifty years, perhaps more, I've never asked. She always stays covered, from head to toe, hair pulled back in a tight graying bun. When she walks into the room, prepared to take my coat, she freezes, eyes growing wide as she stares at the girl in my arms.

"What the hell did you do?"

"We have no time for that."

"Well excuse me, but you have a child in your arms! And look at her, she's covered in grime!"

"I found her by the bar," I announce, softly setting Rosemarie down before the older woman who instantly helps to hold her up. "She said that a man left her there."

She frowns, knowing just as well as me what that could men. "Oh my, dear, let's go get you cleaned up."

I give Amie a nod, thanking her, and then watch as she takes Rosemarie to be bathed. After she's vanished from sight, I leave Amie a note, saying that I would be out for a short time, retuning with something for the girl to wear, knowing what would happen, what would have to happen. Whoever the man was, he left her there for a reason, no matter the reason, and he didn't want her any longer. A flurry of anger runs through me, fearing for what could have happened to the innocent woman back in my home, beaten and bruised. Well, that no longer matters. No longer will she life in fear, no longer will she be unprotected and uncared for. No longer do I think about the gun resting against my thigh, all I can think about is protecting Rosemarie.


	2. Chapter 2

"What on Earth do you have there?" I don't respond to Amie right away, carefully placing all of the bags on the guest bedroom bed.

"I bought Rosemarie clothing."

"Why?" She asks, wiping her hands on a cloth before coming over to assist me with hanging the clothing up.

"I'm going to take her in."

"A little soon, don't you think?" She asks, motioning me to sit down on the bed. "You don't know this girls story at all, how can you say she wants to stay here, that she doesn't have a place to go?"

"You weren't there when I found her, Amie. The look of terror in her eyes, the way she held herself… I've seen that before."

Amie frowns and then goes back to the work that calms her nerves. Neither of us speaks until after she's finished placing all of the clothing in its place. "How bad do you think it was?"

Taking a deep sigh, I close my eyes. "Do you remember the story I told you about that young girl in Turkey, around 1859?"

"That poor child… May God help her."

"God is far too busy to help her, but I'm not. I have all the time in the world, and I am going to dedicated it to Rosemarie."

Amie didn't respond vocally, just walked over to me and took my hand. We looked at one another for just a few seconds, and, by the time she left, I knew that she would help me with any decision that I decided. I knew that she would take impeccable care of Rosemarie, just like she has me for the past twenty years.

* * *

When I walked into the dining room in the morning, Rosemarie sat at the chestnut table, dressed in one of her new dresses. I'm going to call someone to come in and fit the dress to her better, I knew they wouldn't fit her perfectly, but, surprisingly, they are close to her size. The current one she wears is made of a soft blue color, close to that of a nearly bloomed hydrangea.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask her, making sure that she sees me before speaking so that I don't cause her fright.

"Alright, I suppose…" She responds, keeping her hands kept in her lap, eyes looking up only for a brief moment.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not very well, but thank you for the bed, it's very comfortable."

"You're quite welcome," I tell her, pouring her a cup of coffee before sitting down across from her. "Would you like cream or sugar, milk maybe?"

"I don't know… what is this?" For a fraction of a moment, I chastise myself for assuming she knew. Though I have my ideas, I don't know exactly what occurred to her, so, who knows how she was brought up.

"Its coffee, sort of wakes you up, gives you energy. It can be rather bitter, which is why some people add cream or sugar too it. If you don't want it, it's not a problem at all."

"Um," Rosemarie begins, picking up the cup. She takes a small inhale of the drink and then takes a small sip. "A little sugar, maybe."

Giving her a small smile, I comply; pushing the jar filled to the brim, and let her put as much sugar as she wants into the dark liquid. When she takes a second sip, she gives me a small smile. "That's much better. I can't remember the last time I had sugar."

"Well, there's plenty in this household. There are plenty of other things in this house as well, and they are all open to you. My only exception, Rosemarie, it the basement, that's my one request." She nods, showing that she understands, and then takes another sip of coffee. "Now, how do you feel about a breakfast of pancakes?"

She grins. "T-that would be amazing,"


	3. Chapter 3

For the rest of the day, I watched over Rosemarie, but continued to make arrangements for her. Someone will be coming to the home in two days times in order to fit all of Rosemarie's clothing. The day following that, new soaps and various other forms of toiletries such as perfume and face powder, will be brought to the house. When night came, I could see Rosemarie becoming rather closed off again, not as open to my occasional questions or Amie's care for her. Around midnight that evening, an hour or so after Rosemarie went to her bedroom; I got into my own bed and attempted to sleep. Although I've never had much trouble falling asleep, I was unable to, hearing small whines coming from the upper story of the house. I wanted for a short time to see if they would stop, but, as time went on, the whining, and now moaning, became worse. Honing in on Rosemarie as best I can, I stop breathing and clear my mind. Her heartbeat is out of control, getting worse by the minute, and I can tell her lungs are working on overdrive, as if she was in a panic.

In two minutes time, I made it upstairs and walked into the crème schemed bedroom. Rosemarie lay on the bed, limbs pulled close to her body, as if she was used to sleeping in small quarters. Making a quick decision, I decide that it's best to wake her up, remove the stress from her body. Sitting down softly beside her, I placed my hand against her hip. That's all it took to shock her awake, pushing herself up off the mattress to escape both the dream that ran through her head, and the person hovering over her.

"It's okay," I tell her, wrapping my arms around her body to keep her from hurting herself. I press her chest to my own, in order to let her heart beat match my slow one in time. "Open your eyes and pay attention to where you are. Take in your surroundings, the color of the wall, the feeling of the mattress underneath you. And, most of all I need you to focus on my breathing. See how slow it is? How constant it rises and falls?"

She doesn't respond, keeping her grip on my nightshirt tighter than anything I've ever felt before. I hold Rosemarie for what seems to be hours, keeping her body and mind as calm as possible. " _Please…_ "

"Please what, Rosemarie?" I ask her, looking down at her weakened frame.

" _Please_ … please don't leave. I can't fall back to sleep… I can't take it."

"I'm not going anywhere, Rosemarie; I will stay here as long as you wish."

* * *

It took a few hours, but, eventually, Rosemarie did fall back to sleep. Slowly, I lay her onto the bed, and for a moment, considered leaving, seeing that she was calm at the moment. Although, the moment I began pulling away, her breathing became slightly compromised again. My decision being made, I moved so that my back rested against the mattress, and that she could feel as much of my body as she as she needed in order to keep her mind calm. It wasn't until the morning came that I was able to fall asleep myself. For a short time, my mind was black, void of any nightmares, void of any memories. But then, Rosemarie's mind began to lose the battle to stay void. It was then that my mind began to form pictures, form sounds. When the picture became clear, well, I couldn't even call it clear, the lighting too dark to form perfect aspects of the surrounding.

 _A crying rang throughout my mind, a sharp, uncontrolled sobbing. Instantly, I recognized it as Rosemarie's cry, remembering it from the first evening we met. Over a short period of time, the crying became louder, echoed throughout the room she was in._

 _"For the love of Christ, shut the fuck up!" A male voice shouted, steps pounding outside of the room. The door across from her was thrown open, and a man, whose features I could not see, quickly walked in. "I can't take your god damn sounds anymore!"_

 _Rosemarie pushed herself up against the wall, wanting to get away, but being unable to do so. The man, who now hovered over her, nearly growled as he bent down to grab a fistful of her hair, causing her to yell out in pain. "Please, please!" She begged in a hoarse voice._

 _The man, twice as large as she, laughed at her words, pulling her up further so that his hot breath could be felt against her face. "Time to shut up, whore."_

It was then when I awoke, alongside Rosemarie, as she screamed in my arms. For the next hour, I spent my time attempting to calm her once again, smoothing down her long, dark hair.


	4. Chapter 4

"T-they're books."

"They are."

"There are so many of them… they're so beautiful!" Rosemarie says, stepping into my personal library. "The last time I saw one… I think I was 12."

"Are you able to read?" I ask, leaving the door open behind me.

"No, well, I haven't in a very long time." She responds, running her finger over various book spines.

"Would you like for me to read one? Any of your pick." Rosemarie looks back at me, giving me a small smile. She walks around the library, taking out book after book, looking at titles and any drawings. Five minutes after offering, Rosemarie picks a book, handing it out to me.

"This please."

Taking the book for her, I smile as I read the small script upon the cover. "My grandmother wrote this," I tell her, brushing off the dust. "I haven't read this in…" Decades.

"You don't have to read it, I can pick another one," she comments, sensing the shift in my mood.

"No, no, I'd be more than happy to do so. My grandmother believed herself to be a psychic of sorts, and, often times, the stories she wrote in this book became true, though they were always so cryptic. Well, enough of my droning on, let's read."

Rosemarie and I sit down beside one another on the loveseat, keeping a decent distance between the two of us. "I'm going to flip to a random page, there's no certain order to the stories." Rosemarie nods, looking over the written words on the page.

 _There once was a woman, who was wrapped up in vines,_

 _She stayed there for days, counting the time._

 _The vines once so bright, began to darken and become tight,_

 _Ensuring the woman would be kept out of light._

 _The woman acted strong as she stood high and tall,_

 _Though inside she wanted to fall._

 _Astonishing this girl, to have lasted all these days,_

 _Kept up inside, and left in a haze._

 _One day, out of the blue,_

 _A man approached her, and knew what to do._

 _He took the girl home, and took care of her needs,_

 _Not knowing one day, he would fall to his knees._

 _Romantic the story, it seems from the start,_

 _But a love so strong, could tear one apart._

* * *

Neither Rosemarie nor I brought up the words from the story, continuing on to another book of my choice. The rest of the day went as normal, the two of us only truly talking during meals. After dinner, I went back to the library and read from the book once again, having understood what the words were, that they were directed specifically for Rosemarie and I. I'm sure she may have recognized that as well, but, as said before, we never brought it up.

 _The man once shone, standing straight in his line,_

 _Acted for a lord, who was lost in his prime._

 _Losing time, the lord decided to die,_

 _Wishing to leave his place to the man in the line._

 _"I cannot," the man said, not understanding the price,_

 _As the Lord stood above him, ready to strike._


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a month since I brought Rosemarie to my home, and it's been such an interesting thing. Before I brought her to my home, my life was bleak and I was fully prepared to shoot myself time after time to make sure that I no longer had to deal with life, at least, for a short time. I truly didn't have the will to live any longer, having been alive for… what is it… two hundred years now? That can't be right, but I don't have time to think about it now. I don't want to think about it. I want to think about Rosemarie and the light she has brought to my life. She is damaged by what has happened to her, but, even with that being the case; she's an amazing human being. Even though she struggles to sleep at night, she is still so witty and smart. She's not smart in the sense of reading or mathematics, but her mind is fast, nearly able to keep up with mine.

"Dimitri,"

"Yes, Rose?" I question as she walks into the library where I stay, looking through my grandmothers book of visions.

"C… could you help me with something?" She asks, shyly. Even though it's been a month, she's still rather timid around me in some aspects, and I truly don't blame her for it.

"Of course, what is it?" She didn't answer right away, just asked me to follow her to her bedroom, which I did. Her bedroom is still rather plain, with the exception of the few things I've bought for her like a vanity and flowers that are replaced weekly. I must take her out to buy more things in order to make this place more of her own.

"I… I need help getting out of this dress and Amie isn't here." Rosemarie tells me, cheeks reddening.

"Oh, well that's not a problem." I respond. "Are you planning on taking a bath, or just going to put something else on for sleep?"

"For sleep." She answers. "I'm sorry for having to ask, I've never learned how to get out of something this nice before."

"Never feel sorry for asking, Rose," I tell her, taking the laces of her dress into my hands. I work slowly, removing each lace from its place. When I finish, I separate the two sides of fabric and close my eyes at what I see, a twinge of anger moving through me. There are thick scars going down her back, I can't decipher what kind of instrument was used to cause them, but I can tell that it must have been incredibly painful, based on how deep the cuts are. Gently, I brush my finger over one of the cuts, causing Rosemarie to shiver. "I'm sorry," I instantly respond, removing my hands from her.

"It's… it's okay. Will you please grab my night gown from the chair?" I don't respond to her, going to grab the gown. When I look around, Rosemarie is stepping out of the gown, her body exposed to me, and it takes my breath away. I ogle her body, knowing that I shouldn't, but not being able to stop it seems. Her curves are amazing, but, sadly, there are scars on other parts of her body, all ragged, all of different sizes. Even with that being the case, it doesn't take away from her beauty. "I shouldn't have dropped the gown," she tells me, beginning to pull the fabric back over her body, embarrassment obvious on her face. .

"Oh no, no, there's no need for you to do that, here's your gown," I tell her, handing her the gown. "Please don't feel ashamed of your body, you're… stunning."

"Thank you," she responds, taking the gown from me, allowing the fabric to fall again, though she's still slightly embarrassed. She pulls the gown over her body, and I'm near relieved when she's covered up again, because if she were still exposed, I would still be staring at her.

"I'll leave you to sleep,"

"Dimitri, "she says, softly, gripping the fabric of her dress.

"Yes, Roza?"

"Will you stay? I always manage to sleep better when you're with me."

"Of course, Roza, of course."


End file.
